The Last Boy Scout
by Austin Blake
Summary: Angel makes a promise to a dying little girl that may cost him his life. [Incomplete]


DISCLAIMER: I own all. Unless I don't. In which case, I steal...er, borrow.  
  
DEDICATION: To all B/A shippers out there. Keep the faith.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE LAST BOY SCOUT  
  
  
  
A shrill scream pierced the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel, rousing Wesley Wyndam-Price from his study on Czechoslovakian mischief demons. He stood up quickly, breaking out into a near-sprint as he realized the urgency of the cry. As he came into the lobby, he found Cordelia lying on the floor, her expression one of unrelenting torment as she clutched her temples, nearly ripping her own hair out. Drops of blood fell upon the tile from her nose, a recent development of the ripping seizures her mind went through during her visions. Angel and Gunn were already kneeling at her sides, trying to restrain her writhing body and calm her. She cried out in pain, another scythe slashing her mind as a portion of a vision flashed before her tightly closed eyes.  
  
"There's a girl...fire...big demons...laughing...they're looking for something...my God...her parents...117 Wilshire...um...Boulevard......go, damn it!" Cordelia's fingernails drew blood from her temples as she tore at her skin, trying to relieve herself of at least a small amount of the agony that enveloped her.  
  
"Are you all right? Cor-Cordelia?" Wesley spoke haltingly, kneeling as well at the Seer's side beside Gunn.  
  
"No...God, no...just...go......hurry."  
  
"On it." Gunn stood, hurrying towards the double doors of the entrance. Wesley stood as Angel did, grabbing his shoulder.  
  
"I'll stay with her. She doesn't look well. If you need help, call."  
  
"Okay. Check that nosebleed, and get her painkillers. There's some codeine in the first aid kit in my desk."Angel grabbed his duster off the coatrack, slipping it on as he went out of the door.  
  
Wesley sighed as he watched them leave, quickly turning his attention back to the fallen Cordelia. As he knelt to comfort her, Fred made her way down the stairs, pushing her glasses up a bit. "I miss something?"  
  
"No. Everything is..." He looked down at the brunette, taking a tissue from his pocket and gently blotting her nose with it. "...fine. Everything is fine."  
  
As the 1967 black Plymouth Belvedere GTX convertible pulled up to 117 Wilshire Boulevard, Angel's eyes wandered to the house. Only it wasn't a house anymore. Instead, it was a towering inferno. He glanced around, hopping over the driver side door, Gunn following suit on the passenger side. They ran towards the blazing home, having to raise their voices over the flames' roar.  
  
"Gunn, stay here in case any of those demons in Cordy's vision are still lurking about. I'm going to go inside and look for the girl."  
  
"Are you crazy, man? That's suicide."  
  
"Not if you're already dead."  
  
With that, Angel ran into the house, barely avoiding a falling rafter. He looked down at the charred wood, then up at the staircase. He heard the small whimper of a girl crying and started up the seared planks that were once stairs. Suddenly, one gave way beneath his feet. His hand instinctively swept out with supernal agility, grabbing hold to the banister. He winced at the flames licked at his undead flesh, managing his way back up. He finally made it up the rest of the stairs, almost taking hold of a doorknob. Realizing what the heat had probably done to the metal, he forged (no pun intended) his way into the girl's room with his shoulder, easily breaking the burnt wood of the door off it's hinges.  
  
He shook the splinters off, spotting the girl cringing in the far corner, her dark auburn hair stained with her tears as she held her knees to her chest. He quickly made his way over to her, taking her in his arms. She couldn't have been older than ten years of age, but her grip on his neck was strong. Seeing no other way out, he threw himself out of the window, wrapping his duster about the girl to shield her from the shards of shattered glass. He landed roughly on his feet, turning the corner to the front of the house, spotting Gunn. As they approached each other, Gunn lifted his head.  
  
"That her?"  
  
"Yeah. Any sign of our arsonists?"  
  
"No, they spilt. Left one hell of a mess, though."  
  
Angel looked the girl in his arms over. "She's been burned. We have to get her to a hospital, quick."  
  
Once at the hospital, Angel sat impatiently in the waiting area while Gunn talked on the payphone. He hung up the receiver, walking over to the vampire.  
  
"Cordy's all right, at least for having spikes driven through her brain. She's holding up, though. Any word on the girl?"  
  
Angel shifted his eyes to the approaching doctor and stood up. "We'll find out."  
  
The doctor held out his hand in greeting, adjusting his glasses with his other hand. "I'm Dr. Gonzales. Are you the ones who brought the burned girl in?"  
  
Angel nodded, shaking the man's hand, hoping he wouldn't pick up the pulse, or lack thereof. "Yes. Is she all right?"  
  
"She's stable for now. We don't know exactly how long she'll last. She's in the burn unit right now. Do you know the parents?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "No. They were killed."  
  
"In the fire." Gunn added.  
  
"Pity," Dr. Gonzales said, "We'll have to hand her over to Social Services then. She has three days, assuming she lives."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor." Angel said, giving a woeful look to Gunn as they began to walk away. "You've been a great help."  
  
"Wait," the doctor spoke up. "The girl...she's asking for you."  
  
The duo turned back to the physician, Angel raising an eyebrow. "Me?"  
  
"Yes. Right this way, if you don't mind."  
  
Angel looked over to Gunn. "Wait for me in the car."  
  
"The car. Oh yay. What fun. I knew I shouldn't have made that 'Pale guys can't drive' comment."  
  
Angel smirked a bit before following the doctor down the hallway, his companion going into the elevator. As Gunn left the building, Angel entered the girl's dimly lit room. Almost her entire body was treated for burns, an IV set at a steady drip into her veins. Angel took a nearby seat, positioning it at the girl's bedside, taking her small bandaged fingers into his tenderly. At his touch, her eyes fluttered open, a soft jade revealed as her eyelids remained at half-mast.  
  
"A-Angel...it's you...th-the angel..."  
  
He smiled slightly, moving an inch or so closer, resting his arm on the side of her bed. "You wanted to see me...?"  
  
"Y-Yes...I know I'ma die...but I don't wanna go to Heaven..."  
  
His face straightened. "What? Why not?"  
  
"M-My locket. They t-took it...my mommy gave it t-to me...if I don't have it, how will sh-she find me?"  
  
"I'm sure she'll know you when she sees you."  
  
"There's l-lots of people up there...I'm sc-scared..."  
  
"Don't be...you aren't going to die..."  
  
"I'm all alone...I wanna b-be with my mommy and daddy..."  
  
"But you just said..." Angel closed his eyes for a moment, releasing the girl's hand. "You want me to get the locket back?"  
  
"Please? I-I need it...so mommy can find me..."  
  
He opened his eyes, his smile only a front to the sadness he felt within. "I will."  
  
"Y-You promise?"  
  
Angel lowered his head, noticing the doctor come in out of the corner of his eye. "Yes, I promise. Scout's honor. I have to go now. You need your rest."  
  
The girl obeyed his request, closing her eyes peacefully as she drifted off into what he hoped wouldn't be her last slumber. Angel stood, walking past the doctor to the hallway. As the doors of the elevator closed on him, he couldn't help but remember Holland Manners in a similar elevator, telling him nothing he did mattered. His thoughts drifted to the girl lying in a hospital bed, depending on him for her very soul. He whispered to himself as he walked out to the car, oblivious to what Gunn was saying.  
  
"If nothing we do matters, all that matters is what we do."  
  
Wesley had just opened an ancient text when Angel and Gunn returned. He thumbed though the yellowed pages, his eyes focusing on a particular engraving of a rather large demon with three horns crushing a young woman in it's paw. He looked up at his entering associates, motioning them over to his desk. Angel slid his duster off, putting it on the coatrack.  
  
"Any new developments, Wes?"  
  
"Actually yes. Although she was in a lot of pain, she was able to describe the demon to me. I think I've found it." He held up the weathered book to show the page he was looking at to Angel. "A Viscarcerian demon. Very big, very violent, yet nomadic. They leave humans alone, fighting amongst themselves for stature. They are usually docile concerning humans, and sightings have been very dormant the past few centuries."  
  
"Well, what we saw sure wasn't dormant."  
  
"Did you get to the girl in time?"  
  
"Yeah, she's in the hospital. No sign of the parents though."  
  
"Oh dear."  
  
"Why do I not like it when he says that?" Gunn spoke up. "What's the matter, English?"  
  
"Well, there is a prophecy concerning the Viscarcerian race."  
  
"Prophecy. Why did I not see that coming?" Gunn crossed his arms, awaiting the bad news.  
  
"What's it say?"  
  
"That the Viscarcerian will reign over the realms as they were meant to. Long ago, around 1 B.C., there was a gem created of the blood of the top Viscarcerian warriors and blessed by a Roman high priest named Caelstro at the start of 1 A.D. who believed in the pagan rituals of this particular demon. He believed he would help rule when the day came and be granted immortality, but that wasn't the case."  
  
"They killed him right after the blessing."  
  
"Yes. The gem was named the the Jewel of Sangrian, which can be very loosely translated into the Jewel of Blood. The Viscarcerian lost the jewel for a prophecized two millennia. Which means it will be found this year."  
  
"Wait," Gunn said, "1 A.D. Isn't that...?"  
  
"Yes, the jewel was blessed the day of Christ's birth. Supposedly."  
  
"What does the Jewel of Sangrian do?" Angel asked.  
  
"The prophecy states that after the two thousand years, the jewel will be dropped into the mouth of Hell itself, granting the Viscarcerian supreme power and domination over the Earth and Hell. Of course, two of three realms is quite a lot of power, meaning..."  
  
"Heaven itself will fall."  
  
"...and the Viscarcerian will be, in all actuality, God." Wesley finished.  
  
Angel looked over at Gunn. "Do you think that's what the locket is?"  
  
"Knowing this city, probably."  
  
"Locket?" Wesley inquired, "What locket?"  
  
"The girl said she lost a locket. I was asked to bring it back to her."  
  
"The girl probably doesn't know the power it contains. The prophecy says the Oracles would hold the jewel..."  
  
"But the Oracles are dead."  
  
"What if...they were replaced?"  
  
"And the girl just happened to be their daughter..."  
  
"Then...she would be next. The prophecy says something about the Three Who See All, and their blood being shed."  
  
"The Three..." Angel looked down in thought. "When does this ritual take place?"  
  
"In three days, with the Plutonian equinox. Pluto being one of the names for the Roman god of the underworld and the farthest planet from the sun, one of utter darkness..."  
  
"I hate to interrupt the astronomy lesson, English." Gunn said, "but did you say 'mouth of Hell'?"  
  
"Mouth of Hell...as in...the Hellmouth?"  
  
"Sunnydale." Wesley said.  
  
"Sunnydale and an apocalyptic event. That never happens."  
  
"I guess we're gonna see your ex."  
  
"Not yet. We have three days. They won't attack the girl because she's most likely going to die anyway. She's safe for the time being. Meanwhile, we have to find a way to locate our boys...and that jewel. Wes, do you think you and Gunn here can handle things while I'm gone?"  
  
The two just stared at Angel.  
  
"Right. Been there, done that." Angel walked over to get his duster. "If I'm not back in three days..."  
  
"We're screwed?" Gunn asked.  
  
Angel just gave him a glance before walking out of the door, vanishing into the night.  
  
As the convertible pulled up to the local demon karaoke bar, Caritas, the faint sound of a chaos demon singing Aaliyah's "Try Again" very offkey reached Angel's ears. He exited the car, pushing through the crowd of succubae at the door, spotting the green-skinned anagogic demon he was looking for. Lorne, or The Host as he was known, was busy scanning the would-be songstress' mind. He lifted a hand to tell the DJ to stop the music, looking over at the chaos demon on stage.  
  
"You know what, honey? Just...stop trying."  
  
The demon's face fell as she sauntered offstage. Angel took the brief intermission as an opportunity, walking to The Host's table and sitting. The Host didn't seem to be all that surprised that Angel was there, but a pained expression came when the same chaos demon started crooning Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time." He kept his eyes on the performer, but turned his attention to the vampire in his presence.  
  
"What's up, angelcakes? Come for Amateur Night?"  
  
"Thank God, no. I need some information. Have you ever heard of the Viscarcerian?"  
  
The Host scratched beneath his left horn in contemplation. "Yes. As a matter of fact, a lot of them have been in here recently. Way too into horseplay. Why? Would this be a bad thing of the world ending magnitude?"  
  
"Isn't it always? Did they happen to say anything about a jewel of some sort or...ruling over all humanity with an iron fist?"  
  
"Nothing out of the usual. Except for a meeting inside a vampire nest down on Pier 7 inside the old meat packing warehouse. Something about using the bloodsuckers as a diversion. Bloodsuckers being their term, not mine."  
  
"When was this?"  
  
"About two days ago."  
  
"So they probably already went down there. Any idea where they are now?"  
  
"There's a group of five up at at bar. You can ask them. Although I wouldn't recommend it without a tank or a pair of good running shoes."  
  
"Thanks, you've been helpful as usual."  
  
"I do what I can." The Host looked up on stage. "Somebody hit her one more time, please?"  
  
Angel stood from the table, making his way through the throng of oncoming incubi. As he left the bar, he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, a gruff voice following it.  
  
"I hear you've been asking questions about us. We want to know why."  
  
Angel turned to face the person behind him, only to come face to chest with an eight foot tall brown monster, a noxious slime dripping from it's horns as it's beady orange eyes fixated down at him. "I have a history report due."  
  
"Funny, vampire."  
  
"Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?"  
  
Angel's remark was met with the same hand on his shoulder, only this time the hand was coiled and slammed against his jaw. He fell back onto the convertible, his body sprawled out on the hood, unconscious. Three other demons exited the bar behind Angel's attacker, all at least a foot smaller. One of them spoke up after seeing Angel's lifeless body with blood trickling from his lips.  
  
"Kargon, what is this?"  
  
Kargon smiled. "A toy, Fenka. One I would like to play with longer. Put him in the van, we're taking him with us."  
  
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THE END 


End file.
